Sex Type Thing
by L. Nevada
Summary: The one necessary fic in which (a nameless OC) shows up to TM drunk and starts flirting with someone who is not their partner. Said partner gets jealous and there is only one way to dissolve the tension both are feeling. Or the First person POV smutty one shot featuring Chibs Telford with a surprise happy ending.


Author's Notes: Changed (you's) reader POV to first person POV with a nameless OC to better conform to community guidelines. Same story and should read basically the same. This same story in the intended reader's POV is posted under the same author name and story title on AO3, if you're interested. Sorry for any inconveniences! Enjoy...

_I ain't, I ain't, I ain't_

_A-buying into your apathy. _

_I'm gonna learn ya my philosophy, _

_You wanna know about atrocity, atrocity…_

I stumble into the clubhouse with Lyla clinging to my arm. We're both a little tipsy from the wine we had at dinner, but that doesn't stop her from dragging me forcefully to the bar in search for a beer.

The weekly party held by the local MC is in full swing with the yard outside covered in people from the open garage to the loading dock. Liquor is in every hand as they meander about. Some are dressed more promiscuously than others. A clear sign that church was held earlier in the evening. I saw several patch members as I walked in. All of them knowing my face offered their own form of greeting to me out of respect before returning to their previous activities. I recognized many other faces in the crowd – regulars, friends, and hang-arounds – but I didn't see my Oldman as I came in.

I don't think much of it, assuming he already has his hands full with a groupie or two. That's alright. My best friend Lyla Winston is more than willing to keep me company as a prospect who I've yet to learn the name of hands us each a beer. We both watch as he opens them and then turn to stare out at the bar floor.

Music is blaring, but the words are muffled by party goers. The bar room is just as packed as the lot outside. Drinks and food are being passed around and scantily clad women are hanging onto any man who will take them – SAMCRO or otherwise.

I have no set plans in mind. Willing to go wherever the night takes me. I'm neither looking to nor opposed to being picked up by some stranger looking for a good time till morning.

I spot a couple of garage employees standing around a pool table. Their attempts to sink the balls are casual. More interested in conversation than the game itself. One of the men, Dog my wine riddled memory supplies, catches my eye and waves me over. I feel Lyla tug on my arm once more only to let go completely to stand to at her fullest height compounded by the additional height of her six inches heels. Together in matching mat black cocktail dresses we saunter over to the pool table and join the game playing in teams of two.

I like Dog. He's worked on my car a few times, but this is the first time I've stopped to have a discussion with him. He also happens to be my exact type. Burly, with unruly hair at times, and though his brown eyes may not necessarily be my favorite pair in the world they would certainly do for a night.

Yet the conversation remains lax. Again, no plans are certain, and I am not intentionally flirting, at least not overtly, waiting to see how the night plays out on its own and if the garage employee will be brave enough to take home a yet unofficial Oldlady.

Lyla turns her back on me. She steals the attention of her playing partner and I wonder as Dog seizes an opportunity to help me line up a particularly difficult shot if that was in fact her intention as I know she won't sleep with anyone but her husband outside of her work. Maybe Lyla thought she was acting as a good wing woman.

I am not shy as I blatantly lean forward over the pool table lining my eye with the shot. Dog's hands position over my arms in a way he deems appropriate before closing his hands over my own. The action causing him to lean in close pressing his chest to my back and I am again left wondering if the thigh pressed so well aligned between my legs is purposeful.

"Get yer filthy, greasy, light-weight hands off her."

Even over the sound of music and the clinking of glasses and loud conversations that powerful voice with that distinct accent I would know anywhere pierces through the cacophony.

Several men in the vicinity drop their arms from around girls' waists not wanting to risk the possible beat down being meant for them if they didn't. Dog reels backwards distancing himself from the pool table as those who had been watching the game turn to the local designated angry Scotsman who is seething with rage in the center of the bar.

I place the pool cue on the table as my hands gravitate to my hips. Chibs passes me as if he doesn't even see me. Instead he stalks up to the man who had been taking my cues and who I hadn't meant to put in what the poor guy evidently views as mortal danger.

A few inches shorter than Dog, Chibs manages to intimidate the long-time employee getting right in his face. "Touch my Oldlady again and you'll miss more than a few paychecks." Dog, wanting to keep his job as much as his life, nods while taking another step back from the known outlaw.

"Hello dear," I speak from behind Chibs. "How was work?"

Chibs rounds on me, gets what appears to be the first real look at the dress I am wearing which is well above fingertip length, and his anger only grows. His face sets in a permanent scowl and I can imagine the argument to come.

He doesn't speak as he grabs me by the arm intent on leading me from the premises. Lyla tries to step beside me to say goodbye, or perhaps that she's sorry. I manage to say to her before I exit, "I think I'll be banished to the couch tonight."

Outside along the railing Chibs mounts his bike. He puts on his glasses and hands me his own helmet which I begrudgingly accept. I know that making a scene in front of an audience will only get me in deeper trouble.

When I sit on the bike I wrap my arms securely around Chibs' chest as I normally would. But instead of flat palms against his leather I close my hand into a fist while grabbing onto my wrist with the other as a final act of defiance. He speeds out of TM towards his apartment.

It doesn't take long. The ride is only about ten minutes from the clubhouse. Not nearly long enough for Chibs to cool off and forget he's angry. Angry because he's jealous which he feels he shouldn't be. And jealous because I let another man touch me in public. At his bar, no less, when he was likely in the same room the entire time.

I hop off and walk up to the door briskly leaving him to shut off the bike. I let myself inside with my personal key and make up my mind quickly that I'm not going to care what he has to say. I'll let him rant and rave and that will be it. He'll calm down, we'll probably have sex which will lead me to stay the night which has been becoming a frequent occurrence, and life will continue as it has for the last several months.

At least that's what I plan to have happen. Instead…

"What the fuck do ye think I were doing Y/N?!" He enters the apartment slamming the door with so much force I swear the whole building shakes. Though it might be the booze making me feel off balanced.

"Playing pool," the words slip from my mouth without first being considered.

"Dress' like that? Where the fuck did you get that thing?"

"It's Lyla's," I say looking down to smooth my hands over the material. Having picked her up at the studio there were plenty of styles and sizes to choose from. With Lyla's expertise she fitted me to a perfectly form fitting dress. It's not an attire I'd typically wear, but I enjoyed dressing up if only for an evening with a friend.

I realize my hands have a mind of their own as they follow my curves purposefully. I look up to the biker seductively, but Chibs' brows are furrowed with no sign of relaxing any time soon. "We went to dinner. We treated ourselves. I went out of my way to socialize with someone outside the club which last I checked was your idea!"

"A cam girl isn't my first pick fer a friend."

"That cam girl is your brother's wife," I remind him, thinking myself clever for standing up for the working mother.

"And she hasn' any business dressing you like a slag and parading you around like a damn escort."

"I do a fine job of parading myself, thank you. So much for an open relationship. Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me you weren't off with some Crow Eater?"

"I was waiting for you. And our arrangement doesn't mention anything about you showing up to my clubhouse and hooking up with my employees in front of my friends," Chibs spits. As angry as he clearly is it's just as evident that his feelings are hurt by my actions.

That doesn't stop me from throwing insults his way. "Guy, girl, employee, prostitute, cam girl, it's all the same. What's wrong Chibby? Getting sentimental in your old age? Tired of sharing me or are you just mad you wouldn't have gotten to watch?"

Chibs moves so fast my alcohol heavy eyes actually miss it. Suddenly my back is against the wall. A hand is on my right hip and another is against my left shoulder pressing me up against the wall. Chibs levels me with his stare. His breath smells of cigarettes and beer though he has always been very capable of holding his liquor and he has had much less to drink than I have tonight.

"I want ye to have friends outside of the club because as much as I want ye in my life I don't want the club to become yers. You can fuck whoever you want just as I can," he states though his voice wavers on the final sentence before steeling again. "But I would never disrespect ye by hooking up in front of you or with someone you see on a regular basis."

"But you're perfectly comfortable telling me how to dress. Letting Crow Eaters I see at 'family dinners' suck you off. Tell me, you want me to be an Oldlady, but I don't get to have fun if you're not involved?"

"Yer not a goddamn Oldlady. If ye were ye'd do as ye were fucking told!" For some reason his accent is bleeding through the more he speaks. Tension is rising between our bodies and I'm left waiting for something to break the dam. I think I find it.

"What am I then Chibs?"

Chibs' already deep, dark brown eyes are made even darker when he hears the demanding question. He draws a breath in his lungs as he pulls me abruptly off the wall. He spins me effortlessly only to push me face first against the blank white Sheetrock with my forearms pressed above my head for support. His hands clench around the top hem of the dress and tear the fabric clean in two as I hear him declare over my shoulder, "Mine."

The dress splits straight down my back. Without fabric on the shoulders the material falls to the floor and I'm left in nothing but black lace panties.

"That wasn't mine to keep," I chide him for the dress even as I press my ass against his work jeans tauntingly.

"I said ye shouldn't have worn th' dress."

Chibs doesn't bother to remove his clothes. He barely has the patience to shove off his kutte and open his jeans enough to pull out his uncut member. His hands are evidently too eager to return to my body. Raking down my front, squeezing my breasts together, rubbing along my ribs, my navel, down across my thighs. He pulls my panties to one side to rub his length against my clit and I subconsciously press against him, naturally trying to line his cock with my entrance.

"Stop teasing you prick."

"After you behaved like a cunt?" he asks, causing me to shudder at his choice of language. "Traipsing around like a whore in front of God and everyone? Seems fair to me."

His free hand presses on my lower back causing me to arch lower and spread my legs. I lean my full weight on my arms and throw a look over my shoulder. "Are you going to fuck me tonight or are you just going to stare?"

"I was rather content," he mumbles. He's rocking into me steadily enjoying being the reason I'm growing wet. "I'm not sure you deserve to cum tonight."

"You're a right bastard, you know tha-?"

The words catch in my throat. Chibs presses into me and the stretch between my legs immediately has me seeing stars.

When he pauses, letting me adjust to his size, he leans forward to pant across my shoulder blades. "Ye were saying?"

"Don't you feel so much better," I gasp. Not one to begin with begging I manage a smirk as I playfully suggest, "Wanna try moving?"

Chibs fists my hair with his dominant hand. Lifting me, he pushes me flat against the wall. Following close as not to lose contact I feel so much as I hear him growl, "I can't say no to you."

He sets an insistent pace, holding both of us against the wall with his chest as he hammers into me. My arms are pinned above me. My body is radiating heat like a furnace. My hair is in my eyes as I attempt to meet his hips with every thrust, though there isn't much room between the two of us. However, I realize I can create space between myself and the wall. "Fuck! Chibs, touch me."

"What's that?" He asks, stilling, causing me to groan from the absence of stimulation. He pulls his cock out slowly until just the head is left inside. "My cock isn't good enough fer ya?"

I bang my forehead on the wall in frustration as I relent. "Please, Chibby. Fuck me."

"You always get what you want."

Chibs releases his vice like grip in my hair to slide his hand to the warmth between my legs. I forfeit any attempts to rock my hips as Chibs rubs circles against my clit that match the speed of his cock pumping effortlessly inside me. He's fully encompassing me – he is everything that I feel, everything I hear, everything I smell – as he forces me to submit to his unyielding pleasure. And as the pressure builds within me, when the sensation becomes too great, there's nowhere for me to go as I cum hard against his hand and slouch against the drywall waiting until he ultimately spills into me completely spent himself.

"No more of this love," Chibs pants into my hair. "No more."

"Elaborate old man," but the words are no longer malicious. I turn in his arms to face him. I stroke the sweat dampened hair behind one of his ears.

"I cannae see you with anyone else. I want ye to move in with me," and the words flow out all at once as if he is afraid he'll lose his nerve. A thought that has evidently been brewing in the back of his mind for some time finally expels itself. "I want ye ta be mine."

"Sex and a proposal." Or at least I understand that it's the closest I'll ever get to a proposal from the man I chose to be with. "I should have acted out sooner."

"Is that a 'yes', you infuriatingly mad and beautiful woman?" Chibs eyes shining with the brightest glimpse of hope communicate his genuine desire to hear my answer.

"Yes, alright. You win." I wrap my arms around his neck and am hard pressed to find a reason to let him go. "I'll move in with you."

Author's Notes: Surprise happy ending! Reviews always apprectiated if you enjoyed it! See you in whatever I happen to post next!


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